


Who Needs Enemies

by iwillrunforever



Series: With Friends Like These Who Needs Enemies [3]
Category: DCU, Gotham (TV)
Genre: F/M, Violence, big ol' unhealthy relationships, usual gotham stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:42:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27726358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillrunforever/pseuds/iwillrunforever
Summary: It’s only been a few months since Harleen’s birthday and her new normal is undoubtedly strange; her and Jerome’s lives are completely intertwined. It’s not quite a relationship, but they undoubtedly have a growing and twisted connection. For once in her life she is happy - until Jerome’s past begins to unravel and she discovers that he has been less than honest with her.(if you haven't read Friends Like These, there's a summary as part of the series you can check out)
Relationships: Harleen Quinzel/Jeremiah Valeska, Harleen Quinzel/Jerome Valeska
Series: With Friends Like These Who Needs Enemies [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2028086
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	1. Trouble Never Stops

**Author's Note:**

> so I'm doing a sequel, cause I'm not ready to leave these characters and this dynamic. if you've just shown up here and haven't read Friends Like These, I would recommend doing so - there is a summary if you'd prefer! - but the basic deal is Jerome Valeska and Harleen Quinzel and how they meet - gritty, dark, unhealthy. and this is the aftermath

_Beep! Beep! Beep!_

I groan and roll over, slamming my hand onto the clock to silence the shrill alarm. I’ve barely slept, but if I was dreaming I don’t remember what.

Even after three months, it still feels strange to wake up in my empty childhood home.

My parents didn’t come back after they went to Norway. Instead, they moved to New York again – the only logical option from their perspective. They didn’t try to get me to join them; I guess they finally realised that there are far more reasons for me to stay than there are to go.

It’s a typical morning. I get dressed and go downstairs. First thing is to turn on the coffee machine. While it’s doing its thing I fill up Puddin’s food and water. She’s six months old now and reaches up to my knee; almost completely unrecognisable from the puppy I got last Christmas. I scratch behind her ears and stand back up, grabbing two mugs and filling them up with fresh coffee. The scent fills the room, making me sigh audibly.

Then comes the perfectly timed chapping at the back door. I turn around as Jerome comes in.  
“It really shocks me how punctual you are.” There’s no need for ‘hello’s’.  
“I’m a criminal, not disrespectful.” He scoffs. I grin, sliding his coffee over to him. He picks it up and takes a slow sip. “You seriously make the best coffee.”  
“Only because I have an expensive coffee machine.” I walk around the island between us to stand beside him. “Rich girl perks.” I shrug.  
He wraps an arm around me and squeezes my shoulders, making me giggle. “Guess that’s a good enough reason to keep you around.”  
“Very funny. You know you’re stuck with me.” I elbow him in the stomach, slightly harden than could be considered teasing. Jerome seems to consider the words for a moment before his grip tightens and I’m being spun around so the counter is pressed against my back and Jerome is leaning over me.  
“Maybe you’re the one who’s stuck with me.”

A few months ago this would have scared me – not anymore.

I give a smirk and, with a grab of his collar, spin us both around so that we’ve swapped and it’s my arms around him. “Are you sure about that?”  
“Someone’s confident.”  
“You know it.” I wink. He shakes his head with a smile before leaning down and kissing me.

His touch still sends electricity through every nerve in my body. My skin tingles. My heart races.

My arm slides away from me on the counter and knocks into one of the mugs. The sound of it smashing on the ground pulls us apart. Jerome laughs at the mess and I slap his shoulder before grabbing a dustpan and a paper towel to clean up the mess.  
“Thanks for the help,” I grumble as I drop the shards in the trash.  
“You looked like you had it handled.”  
“Sure.” I roll my eyes. “Oh, remember, no surprise visits tonight or tomorrow. Wren’s visiting, and she can’t find out about this.”  
“Not sure how I feel about being your dirty little secret, Harls.”  
“Deal with it.”

*

As soon as Wren and I are through the door I take off my heels and drop them haphazardly on the floor. She laughs at me and I make a face at her before leading the way into the front room. We collapse onto opposite couches, her facing the bay window and me facing the open doors to the dining room. Who would have thought dinner could be so exhausting?

“It feels weird being back.” She sighs, a melancholy smile on her face.  
“You’re telling me,” I laugh softly. “You’d think coming back after five years would be the big deal – not five months.”  
“Well, a lot more has happened in the five months I’ve been in England than the whole time we were in New York.”  
“That’s a good point.”  
She hesitates before she speaks again. “I’m glad life is back to normal.”  
I nod in agreement. “Things got scary for a bit.”  
“That feels like an understatement.” She rolls her eyes. “I didn’t think it was possible for someone to get kidnapped so much in six months.”  
“What can I say, I’m an overachiever.”  
“Hilarious.” She leans forward, an earnest look in her eyes. “It is all over though, right? He’s disappeared?”  
“Yup. I haven’t seen or heard of Jerome Valeska in months…” I trail off at the sight of the bastard in question frozen in the doors behind Wren. My eyes widen in sudden panic but I force myself to keep calm.  
“You okay?” She frowns at my sudden change in demeanour.  
“Oh, yeah, I’m fine, just thought I saw something.” She goes to turn and I panic again. “It’s nothing! It’s fine.” My outburst manages to keep her attention on me long enough for Jerome to disappear out of sight. I have no clue what he’s doing here. _I am going to kill him._

*

It’s after midnight when Wren’s head starts to droop. We say our goodnights, and after locking the doors and checking that Jerome is actually gone, I head to my room.

As I’m getting changed I notice a scrap of paper on my desk that I know wasn’t there before. I pick it up and unfold it to find a name: ‘Zachary Trumble’ – Jerome’s uncle. My mind flickers back to Jerome and I, sat in that cell, waiting for death.

_“It’s not cheery.”  
“Nothing is with you. Or everything is.”  
“Fine. So, when I was a kid, before I realised the world hated me, I had an uncle.”  
“Zach.”  
“Smart girl.”  
“Ha ha.”  
“Dear old mom’s brother. He was a cook at the circus, and he would bake too. Great at it. We used to try and steal cookies from him. One time, he caught me. Took my hand and shoved it in a pot of boiling stock. Practically cooked me down to the bone. Took months for the burns to heal. And I never forgot the smell of my own flesh boiling.”  
“I’m sorry.”  
“Don’t be. It’s funny.”_

_…_

_“You said, “we”. Did you have friends?”  
“Doesn’t matter.”  
“But -”  
“I said, it doesn’t matter!”_

He never mentioned the story or his uncle again – it was very clearly off-limits. The note means nothing to me, so I drop it back on the desk and let myself fall into a restless sleep.

*

It’s 3am when the ringing of my phone wakes me up. I answer quickly, if only to shut it up.  
“Hello?” My voice is muddy and hoarse with sleep.  
“Hey.” It’s Jerome. I can hear sirens. “Look, I’m in trouble.”  
Now wide awake, I sit up, clutching the phone to my ear. “What’s happening? Do you need help?”  
“Nah, I’ll be fine. Did you see my note?”  
“You mean the very unhelpful one?” I glance over at it. “Yeah.”  
“I need you to find him. Any information you can.” The sirens are getting louder.  
“Look, I need to go. See ya’ later.”  
“Wait, Jerome -” Silence. He hung up. There’s nothing I can do.


	2. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harleen can’t worry about Jerome right now - she has a job to do, and people to meet.

“Harleen! Have you seen this?”

I’m shuffling downstairs still half asleep when Wren shouts to me from the kitchen. I give a vague mumble in response.

“Hurry up!”   
“Okay!” This time I manage to form something resembling a word. _It’s the little things._

I make my way into the room where she’s standing holding the television control and rewinding.   
“What is it?”   
“Just watch.”

She presses play.

“Jerome Valeska, known criminal and anarchist, has been arrested.” I’m not surprised, but my heart still freezes in my throat. “After a standoff with the GCPD last night, he was taken into custody and will return to Arkham Asylum later today. Valeska has evaded attempts to apprehend him since his escape from Arkham in February.”

“He didn’t escape, he was kidnapped,” I mutter, purely for the sake of it.  
“That’s not the point.” Wren gives me a look.  
“I’m just saying, they shouldn’t be spreading misinformation.”  
“Shush.”

“Valeska has been responsible for countless deaths and destructive incidents since the murder of his mother five years ago; most recently, the kidnapping and torture of socialite Harleen Quinzel.”

“Ooh, I get a special mention. I’m so glad my reputation isn’t permanently impacted by him.” I roll my eyes before grabbing the controller and turning the tv off. “Moving on: what time’s your train?”

*

Two hours later I’m hugging Wren goodbye at the station. A day isn’t long enough after so much time. But she and my parents are flying to Barbados tomorrow – summer vacation far away from the grim realities of life.  
“Stay safe,” She says into my shoulder.  
“When don’t I?” I tease. Another look. “I’ll do my best.”

I wave until the train is out of sight and resist the urge to cry, instead turning and striding away. In half an hour I’m meeting Bruce and I need to be ready.

*

The café we’ve arranged to meet at is small, cosy and, most importantly, quiet. There’s a mocha and a croissant sitting in front of me as I wait for him to arrive.

Since February we’ve tried to meet up regularly – both of us wanting to make sure the other wasn’t becoming isolated – but the chaotic and unpredictable nature of Bruce’s life made scheduling more than difficult. We’re lucky to see each other once a month.

In a way that works better for me. It makes it easier to hide the truth, to lie straight to the face of one of my best friends. To pretend that everything is okay. That everything is normal. That I’m not falling for an insane criminal. That I’m not a traitor.

“Harleen!” The smile on my face is genuine when I see Bruce standing at the counter. I give him a wave and wait for him to come over, carrying a tray holding a black coffee and a blueberry muffin. “It’s good to see you.”  
“You too. I’ve missed you.” And I mean it. “How’s life?”  
He sighs, looking away. “Good days and bad days. Sometimes… sometimes it just feels like no matter how much good I do, Gotham is just getting worse and worse.”  
“I get that. There’s so much darkness here – it’s suffocating. It’s so difficult to know what’s right and wrong.” I’m consoling myself as much as I’m consoling him. The line between good and evil has practically disappeared. The greater good is irrelevant – what did walking in the light ever do for me? At least in the darkness, I can hide. At least I can protect myself.   
“I’m glad you understand. Selina doesn’t struggle with things like this – if she can justify it, she’ll do it. No matter what.”  
“I wish I could do that – make a decision without second-guessing myself.” It feels all I do these days is question my decisions – is this really what I want? Is _Jerome_ what I want?

Eventually, I’ll have to make a decision. Peace or chaos. Duty or freedom. Bruce or Jerome.

I can’t imagine what Bruce would say if he found out the truth. I know he wouldn’t understand. And I know he would never trust me again.

“That’s life though.” He shrugs, a melancholy look in his eyes. But with a sip of his coffee, he perks up and smiles. “How about you? How are you getting on?”  
“Surviving.” I laugh, tearing my croissant and taking a bite. “I finally have some control back in my life. No parents, no school, flexible work -”  
“No Jerome.” He interjects.   
“No Jerome.” I nod. _Bullshit_. “He was arrested last night.”  
“I saw. How do you feel?”  
“I don’t know.” There’s some honesty. “At least now we know where he is. But they mentioned me in the report.” Bruce nods. “It’s as though… as though I’ll always be associated with him, whether I like it or not.” _Do I want that? Do I want my name alongside Jerome’s for the rest of my life? I chose him… But what does that mean?_

“So you haven’t seen him since-?”  
“Since he killed the people who took us from Arkham.” More lies. All I can do is lie. “He’s left me alone. Moved on.”

_Liar._

*

Next stop is the library. I hurry up the steps just as it starts to rain. Inside it’s quiet. Obviously.

I smile at the librarian as I walk past the desk in the direction of the computers. Sitting down, I pull out Jerome’s note. _‘Zachary Tumble’_. I can’t get Jerome out of Arkham. I can’t play the hero. But I can do this for him.

There’s no feeling of guilt as I type the name into the search bar. I know that if I find him and tell Jerome where he is, he’s as good as dead. But he deserves it. Just the thought of Jerome as a young child, being tortured and abused by this man, makes him deserve it.

_“Practically cooked me down to the bone.”_

My jaw set, I begin my research, noting down every detail that I can, anything that might help.

I will find him.

*

A few weeks later and there’s been no word from Jerome. He’s still in Arkham and all I can do is wait. Life has become boring, monotone, without his presence.

So there’s only one thing to do.

For the first time in months, I’m back out on the streets in the dead of night. All in black, hood up, blending into the nightlife of Gotham. I don’t plan on committing any “misdeeds”. It’s enough just to be out, that vague sense of rebellion, of danger. It’s barely anything compared to everything I’ve experienced now, but it’s better than nothing.

It’s as if I don’t exist. Just another person in a sea of ghosts.

At some point, I become aware of someone following me. When I turn and look back there isn’t anything out of place, but I know that’s not true.

Thinking strategically I turn down an empty alleyway. With the sound of the city muffled I know for certain that there is someone behind me.

I wait a moment before I pull the gun out from my waistband and point it at my stalker.

It’s Selina.

“Since when did you start carrying a gun?”  
“Since I got kidnapped and tortured on live television.” I lower the weapon. “Why are you following me?”  
“I wanted to talk to you.”  
“You know where I live.” I frown at her, brows furrowed in confusion.  
“I went to your place. You weren’t there.” She steps closer so that she’s standing right in front of me. “So I found you.”  
“Well, here I am.” I shrug. “What did you want to talk about?”

“How are you doing?” She shoves her hands into her pockets.   
“Really?”  
“Yeah. We’re friends – I wanted to check in.”

I start walking again, with Selina at my side, and head back into the streets. “I assumed Bruce would keep you updated.”  
“He does. But I want to hear it from you.” I know Selina could see right through me if I’m not careful.   
“Honestly? I don’t know.” _Careful, Harleen. One wrong move and you could lose everything._ “It’s weird. Everything’s so different. I’m not afraid anymore.”  
She examines me out of the corner of her eye. “Why not?”  
“Because now I’m in control. I’m not running from anything or anyone. I get to decide what my life is – no one else.” Technically not lying.   
“Good. You’re strong; you need to use that.” I nod. “There’s something else.”  
“Oh dear.”  
“Penguin asked to see you.”

“What?” I stop in my tracks, confused. “Penguin hates me.”  
“Well, he wants to talk to you. He didn’t say why.”   
“When?”  
“As soon as possible.”

“Let’s go then.”

*

It doesn’t take us long to get to the mansion. I even manage not to crash this time.

I lead the way inside. It’s exactly as I remember it, luxurious and dark. We find Penguin in the lounge, despite the late hour, with a glass of whiskey in his hand.  
“Penguin.” He doesn’t seem surprised to see us standing there.  
“Thank you, Miss Kyle.”  
“No problem.” She turns to leave, giving me what is almost a warning glance. “Good luck.”

And then we’re alone. Penguin gestures towards the chair opposite him and I sit down in it, resisting the anxious instinct that screams at me to run. _No weakness._

“It’s been a while, Miss Quinzel.”  
“Yup.” I pause for a moment, and as he’s about to speak I interrupt him. “You know, you could just call me Harleen.”   
He examines me for what feels like an eternity. “You might be aware I escaped Arkham recently. While I was there, Jerome and I spoke.”  
“You saw him?” I struggle to cover the emotion behind my question. But I’m pretty sure he knows anyway. “Is he okay?”  
“He has the run of the place – he’s only there because he wants to be.”  
“And why’s that?”  
“He didn’t tell you?” I shake my head. “I assumed you would know the details.”  
“I don’t know anything. Other than that he’s looking for his uncle.”   
“Well, he wanted me to tell you that he has a plan. And that you need to be ready when he breaks out.” He swirls the liquid in his glass, watching it sparkle in the warm light of the fire.   
“What do you mean ready?”   
“That’s all he said.” Penguin’s eyes lift to meet mine. He’s stern, as always, but there’s a flicker of fear. I don’t know what Jerome told him, but it’s serious. “He’ll come and get you, and you need to be ready to leave. He’s bringing everyone here.”  
“Everyone?” _Who’s everyone?_ As far as I know, Jerome’s allies are always temporary. But maybe there’s something he hasn’t told me.   
“That’s all he said.”

I stand up, irritated and relieved at the same time. I’m glad Jerome’s okay – but the ambiguity of his message his frustrating. _“Be ready.”_ What does that even mean?

“Thank you, Mr Cobblepot.” Turning to leave, I’m at the door when he speaks again.

“One last thing.”  
“Yeah?”  
“He wants you to get him a suit.”


	3. The First Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's never easy staying still. But soon enough, boredom will be the least of everyone's worries.

Another month went by with no word from Jerome.

So I let myself relax. I’d done my part, now it’s time to wait.

A hot chocolate, a pile of blankets, Puddin’ by my side, and a dumb movie. A moment to sit back and not worry about the rest of the world for once.

Then the phone begins to ring.

I try to ignore it, letting it ring into silence. Then it starts again. Groaning in annoyance, I pick it up, ready to shout at whoever is disturbing my peace.

“What?”  
“It’s Jim Gordon.” I sit up, confused.  
“Hi, Jim. What’s up?”  
“Where are you?” He sounds panicked. Behind his voice, people are shouting.  
“At home…”  
“Jerome has escaped from Arkham.” _It’s happening._ “He broke out, along with Tetch and Scarecrow and hundreds of others.”  
“And you think he might come after me.”  
“Yes. You need to stay in your house.” A car door slams and an engine revs. “Lock the doors and windows, hide.”  
“Okay, I will.” _Not._ “Thank you.”  
“Stay safe.”

As soon as Jim hangs up the phone is ringing again. This time with a familiar number.

“Jerome!”  
“The one and only.” A grin bursts onto my face at the sound of his voice.  
“Where are you?”  
“About. Look, did you get the address?”  
“Yeah, hold on.” I scramble up from the sofa and upstairs to the study. There’s a file sitting there with everything I managed to find. “He owns a restaurant in the East Side.”  
“Perfect.” His smile is audible. “I’m coming to get you – just need to pay dear old Zach a visit.”  
“Okay. I’ll be ready.”

*

I’ve been ready for an hour. Puddin’ has plenty of food and water and I have a bag packed with some extra clothes. For once I’m dressed appropriately for going on the run: combat boots, jeans, and a sturdy leather jacket – no more uniforms.

Waiting was torture so I’m pacing up and down the stairs. Every creak of the floorboards makes me jump. I guess I’m a little on edge.

I don’t know what’s going to happen next. I can’t tell if I’m thrilled or terrified. Maybe both.

“Boo.”

I scream and spin around, striking the figure across the face. Jerome stumbles into the wall and clutches his now-red cheek.  
“Hello to you too.” His voice is hoarse.  
“Shit. I’m sorry.” I do genuinely feel bad, but I also can’t help giggling at the offence on his face. Luckily he sees the humour in it too – as always.

But when he stands up, his face entering the light, I gasp. His face and neck are burnt, coated with a sticky substance. Soup.

“I’m guessing that means you saw your uncle?” I try not to overreact. Knowing Jerome, he doesn’t care about the injuries.  
“Yup. But he was waiting.”  
“Maybe Jim got in contact – he called me right before you did.”  
“Oh really?” He tilts his head, eyes narrowing. “What did you tell him?”  
“That I would lock the doors and hide.” I narrow my eyes back at him. It’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking.

At least until he breaks out laughing. “Good for you, Harls. I’ll make a criminal out of you yet.” He steps closer and takes my face in his hands, but before he can lean in I pull back. He pouts, clearly frustrated.  
“I am not kissing you until you’re fixed up.”

I take his hand and lead the way downstairs to the bathroom, smirking at his childish whine of “Fine.”

After spending hours with the lights off, turning on the light to the bathroom is almost blinding. But it also reveals that Jerome’s burns aren’t as bad as they first appeared. I pull out a first aid kit and look up at him.

“You’re too tall.”  
“You’re too short.” He counters.  
“No, I mean… I can’t get a good angle.”  
“Here.” Without warning, he grabs my waist and swings me round to sit on the counter so we’re almost face to face. “Is that good enough?”  
“Just about.” I begin cleaning the burns – just like old times. They’ll heal quickly. Jerome stands between my legs, watching me work. “You know, I can treat things other than burns. I wouldn’t mind a bit of variety.”  
“Am I boring ya’, Harls?”  
“Not yet.” I wink at him. “But you should be careful.”  
“Not really my style.”  
“I noticed. Now, open.” I tap on his chin and he obeys, with a roll of his eyes. The inside of his mouth and throat are red and sore. I grab a spray and use as much as I dare, holding Jerome’s jaw so he can’t squirm away. He tries to speak but it comes out garbled.  
“What was that?” I tease. He grabs my hand and forces me to release his jaw.  
“We need to get going. The Hatter got into a bit of trouble.”  
“Well, you’re all done.” I close the box and slide it away from me. “Let’s go.”

But instead of stepping back, Jerome places his hands either side of me, keeping me on the counter.  
“I think you promised me something, Harls.” He growls, his eyes dark and a smirk on his face.  
“I think I might have.” I grin and press my lips to his, revelling in the feeling. His hands grab my neck, holding me close, burning hot against my skin. I let myself fall into the kiss, closing my eyes and forgetting everything else but Jerome. “I thought,” I murmur against him, “I thought we had to go.”

He groans but pulls away, letting me jump down. “Unfortunately, we do. But first,” I raise an eyebrow, “I need a new look.”

*

We meet Scarecrow at the side of a quiet road that passes under the train tracks. He greets us with a solemn nod, dark eyes examining Jerome and me. To be honest, he freaks me out. His piercing stare sends a shiver down my spine.

“So, what’s the plan?”  
“Stop the van, get rid of the driver, head to Penguin’s.” Jerome shrugs as though it’s simple.  
“It’s nice to know your planning skills… remain the same.” I roll my eyes.  
“Come on, Harls. Three of us versus one cop?” He throws an arm around my shoulder. “What could go wrong?”  
“Let’s remember that I’m the only one here who hasn’t been arrested.” My eyes shift from Jerome back to Scarecrow. “No offence.”  
“None taken.” He rasps.

I’m about to respond when Jerome grabs the collar of my jacket and pulls me into the shadow of the buildings. The van is here. It rumbles up the road, jolting and coughing smoke.

When it’s just about to reach us Scarecrow steps forward, a dark silhouette in the centre of the tarmac. The van screeches to a halt mere inches from him. The driver steps out, angry and confused, and is greeted with a spray of gas from Scarecrow’s glove. In an instant, his face is consumed by terror and he runs off screaming. Jerome and I join Scarecrow, rounding the side of the van. The doors swing open to reveal Jervis Tetch wearing a metal mask, his eyes wide with excitement.

Jerome hoists himself up surprisingly gracefully. “How’d you like the new threads?” Stepping forward, he begins to detach the contraption from Jervis’ face. “Aw, speechless, I know.” It pulls away with a hiss. Scarecrow climbs up through the doors and I follow him, trying to suppress the feeling that I am completely out of my depth. As Scarecrow steps around Jerome to speak to Jervis, Jerome turns and winks at me.

Jervis and Scarecrow are speaking to each other. Distracted by Jerome, I only manage to catch the end of Jervis speaking:  
“I must confess, pure joy in besting Jimmy boy with our ploy!” He giggles as he speaks – Jerome may be insane, but this man is unhinged.  
“Yeah, yeah, you did a great job keeping Gordon occupied.” Jerome waves a hand at him dismissively. “Meanwhile, Crane got his fear gas, I got my information and my girl.” Jervis and Scarecrow’s eyes both fix on me. _Show no fear._ “And everything is going according to _my_ plan. But, no time to palaver gentlemen. We have fish to fry.” He does a half turn, then looks back at them. “And, by fish, I mean faces… or feet.” He seems to be thinking long and hard, then waves his arms with a laugh. “Something fun to fry!”

Jumping down, he offers me his hand and I take it – even though the slight jump is nothing – joining him on the ground. “Buckle up.” He slams the doors and leads the way to the front of the van. I sit myself in the driver's seat, ready to go.  
“Oh, no way. My turn to drive.” I roll my eyes but slide over anyway.  
“Honestly, you crash a motorbike one time and no one trusts you with a vehicle again.”  
“Seems reasonable to me.” I shove his shoulder. “All aboard!” The engine rumbles to life and we speed off, Jerome’s gleeful cackling trailing behind us.

*

We pull up outside of an old building beside a sign reading ‘St Ignatius School for the Gifted’.

“Hang on, I know this place.” I lean out of the passenger side door and look up at the familiar building.  
“You do?”  
“Yeah,” I glance back towards Jerome, “I was supposed to be transferring here before we left Gotham.”  
“You little genius, you.” He ruffles my hair condescendingly. “That means you can give us the tour.”  
“Why are we here?”  
“Revenge, Harls. Revenge.”

*

We leave Scarecrow behind to keep watch while Jerome, Jervis and I sneak through the hallways. Nothing has changed in the six years since I was last here – a few more awards in the display case maybe.

Soft light glows from under the door to the headmaster’s office.

Jerome kicks it open, making the man inside scream.  
“Please don’t hurt me!” He whimpers, backing into the corner and away from an open filing cabinet.  
“Oh, hush.” Jerome waves a hand dismissively. “You know why I’m here.”  
“No, no, I don’t.” He shakes his head, tears welling in his eyes. “Please just leave.”  
“You’re really making this more difficult than it needs to be.” Jerome pulls out a pistol and spins it by the trigger haphazardly. “Xander Wilde.”  
“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”  
“You know there’s no need for this,” Jervis interjects.  
“Yeah, but this is the fun way.” Jerome grins as he points the gun at the headmaster’s head, inducing another flood of tears. “Harleen, mind taking a look through that filing cabinet there?”  
“Sure.” I step forward and begin rifling through the files. “Xander Wilde?” He nods. “And I thought I had the prize for the weirdest name in Gotham.”  
“It’s a close competition.” Jerome chuckles. I find the file quickly and pull it out. “Good girl.”  
“Please just leave.” The headmaster begs.  
“Oh, we’ll be leaving. Just one more thing.” Jerome steps aside to make room for Jervis, who pulls out a pocket watch. As Jerome grabs the file from me and leads the way out, Jervis begins to speak.

*

“Anything to report?” Jerome calls to Scarecrow who’s skulking beside the van.  
“Nothing at all. I take it the mission was successful?”  
Jerome waves the file and winks. “More than. Let’s get going.”

As we get in, Jervis appears, joining Scarecrow in the back.  
“Are we good?”  
“He won’t be bothering us.” Jervis smiles through the wire separating us. The van speeds off again, this time in the direction of Penguin’s mansion. I can see the faint glow of dawn in the distance.  
Jerome tosses the file onto my lap and nods at it. I pick it up. “So who’s Xander Wilde?”  
“Just read it out.”

I flick it open. The first page holds all the basic information. Name, date of birth, parents, and so on. The space where there would normally be a photo is blank.  
“Xander Wilde, 24 years old. Started at the school fourteen years ago and graduated valedictorian. GPA of -” My eyes widen at the number. “- Oh shit. Wow.”  
“Keep going.”  
“Top of all his classes, teachers thought the world of him. Quiet, studious, perfect student by all accounts.” I make a face. “Can’t relate.” Jerome gives me a look which I return. “Don’t look at me like that; I was smart, not a good student.”  
“Sure.” He doesn’t sound like he believes me. “Where is he now?”  
“Ummm…” I rifle through the pages of reports, of straight A’s, of extracurriculars. “He went to college, graduated and now… He’s working for an engineering company, Meyer and Hayes.” I drop the file and frown at Jerome. “Who is this guy?”  
“Let’s just say he betrayed me.” He refuses to make eye contact with me. “And he’s going to regret that.”  
“Okay.” I shrug – there’s no point interrogating him. If it’s to do with his uncle, it must be something big. Realising how tired I actually am, I suppress a yawn. My eyelids begin to drop, and despite my struggles to stay alert, I find myself falling asleep.

*

_The world around me is burning._

_I’m trapped in a room with no doors or windows, surrounded by flame. As I spin round, panicking, looking for a way to escape, the walls start closing in. Slowly at first, but as they get closer they speed up._

_“Help!” I scream. But there’s no one to hear. “Please!” I fall to the ground, my knees knocking against the floor. “I don’t want to die!”_

_“Harleen!” My head flies up at the somewhat familiar voice.  
“Hello?”  
“It’s me!” A figure in front of me. He’s silhouetted by the fire.  
“Please help me!” It doesn’t matter who it is. I need to survive._

_He kneels down and his face is hit by light: Bruce. At the sight of him, I feel myself ache with guilt. Why is he helping me? Why is he so good?_

_“Come on.” He offers me his hand._

_I reach out to take it, but before I can make contact a splitting pain shoots through me. It’s as though I’m being pulled apart._

_“Bruce!”  
“Harleen!” This time it’s Jerome’s voice coming from Bruce’s mouth. The pain only gets worse. I fall to the floor, writhing in agony. “Harleen!” His voice is far away, and yet right beside me at the same time._

“Harleen!”

Someone is shaking me. My eyes snap open and I lash out. Jerome is prepared for the attack this time, grabbing my hand before it can make contact with his face.  
“We’re here.”

I look around, seeing that the sun has almost risen and we’re parked outside of the mansion.  
“Oh.” I try to rub the sleep from my eyes, but I’m still exhausted. “Did I snore?”  
“Only a bit.” Jerome chuckles.  
“What about talking?” Hopefully, my dream stayed inside my subconscious. I don’t want to explain that to Jerome.  
“Nothing really.” He frowns, almost worried, but I smile, trying to convince us both that everything is fine.  
“Cool. Let’s go.” I slide out of the van and stride into the mansion. It doesn’t take Jerome long to catch up. “Where did the others go?” He shrugs.  
“They’re about.” A tall man is standing waiting for us.  
“Mr Cobblepot has instructed me to show you to your rooms.” He’s stiff, clearly anxious in Jerome’s presence.  
“Look, you go ahead.” He squeezes my shoulders and pushes me forward slightly. “I need to talk to Penguin.”  
“But I want to help.” I protest – even though I know he’s right.  
“You’re no help if you’re snoring.”  
“Fine. Don’t get killed again.”  
“No promises.” I glare at him over my shoulder as I follow the man up the stairs until Jerome is out of sight.

When we get to the room, I say thank you and immediately lock the door.

Next, the curtains. No light allowed.

I dump my bag on the bed and pull out a top, changing quickly and collapsing into bed, letting sleep overwhelm me.


	4. Questions Without Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last time Harleen was at Penguin’s mansion she was on the run and afraid for her life. Now, being calm and in control leaves room for her mind to run away from her.

It’s about four in the afternoon when I finally wake up. I stretch and yawn – the crash from the adrenaline hit me hard. The sound of an engine draws me to the window. A car and a van are pulling up outside. Penguin steps out of the car, and the van doors open to reveal a man and a young woman, both in strange suits of metal. They separate as soon as they can, the woman glaring at him as she makes her way into the house. I recognise them vaguely but no names come to mind. There’s no sign of Jerome.

I get dressed and make my way downstairs, stopping halfway down as Penguin comes through the door. He locks eyes with me immediately.

“Miss Quinzel.”  
“Mr Cobblepot.”

Silence hangs in the air between us. Part of me wants to ask about Jerome, but another part doesn’t want my entire purpose here being defined by him.

“Thanks for letting us stay here.” I continue down to meet him in the entry hall.  
“My pleasure.”  
“You don’t need to lie. I’m sure you’d far prefer peace and quiet.” He gestures for me to follow him and begins to hobble in the direction of his office.  
“My history with Jerome may be… antagonistic, but he has interesting ideas.”   
“To be fair, I think everyone’s history with Jerome is antagonistic.” I chuckle. Penguin makes a face as he stops in front of the door.  
“Including you?”   
“Well, he did kidnap me.”  
“And torture you. And yet now you are… allied with him.” He watches my reaction carefully. “If that is the correct word?”  
“I know it doesn’t make sense, but…” I shrug, trying to find the words. “Whatever is between Jerome and I is complicated.”  
“Very complicated.” I nod. “I’m not usually one for advice, but you should be careful. Jerome Valeska is a powerful and manipulative person; you can’t let him consume you, Harleen.”

His words circle in my mind. As much as I hate to admit it, he has a point. It would be very easy to let Jerome become my entire life. Too easy.

“I won’t let that happen.”   
“And what does Jerome think about that?”

I straighten my back, irritated at Penguin’s arrogance and irritated at the truth in his words.

“Jerome isn’t in charge of me. I am. Don’t forget that.”

Slamming the front door behind me, I storm outside, taking a deep breath of fresh air. My hand brushes over the scar still on my stomach. ‘J’. Jerome’s brand. His mark, engraved into my skin for the rest of my life.

Does Jerome think he owns me? I know he said I belong to him, but did he mean that? Am I just a possession, a doll for him to play with until he gets bored? Am I just another idea that went too far?

I shake the thoughts out of my head. I’m in too deep to start doubting myself now. I can’t start regretting the decisions I’ve made – there’s nothing I can do to change them.

“You look familiar,” A voice calls from my left: it’s the woman from before, leaning against the wall watching me. Now I can see her more clearly, I can tell she’s not much older than me. The side of her face is scarred with burns and her eyes glow red.  
“I’m Harleen. And you are?”  
“Firefly.” She smirks as she introduces herself. There’s an arrogant air to her – but that’s not uncommon to Gotham’s criminals.  
“Right. With the flamethrower.” I remember now. She’s appeared in various incidents in the past few years, never sticking around long enough to get caught.  
“With the flamethrower.” She nods.  
“How do you know Penguin?”  
“We’ve worked together before.” She pushes herself off the wall effortlessly and steps closer to me, hand on hip. “How do you know him?”  
“The same, I guess. But I came with Jerome.”  
“Of course,” She looks me up and down, “That’s where I know you from. You were all over the news.”  
“You could say that.” The way she smiles is making me uncomfortable. Like she knows something I don’t. “I’ll see you later.” I leave with a frown on my face, her gaze pricking my back as I go back into the house.

*

I’m lying on my bed staring at the ceiling when I hear another car pull up. This time I ignore it. The front door slams and heavy footsteps begin making their way up the stairs. Penguin’s voice makes its way through the walls, but I can’t hear exactly what he’s saying. Another voice interrupts him.

“Ah, it’ll be fine!” Jerome.

I sit bolt upright and scramble off of the bed to the door. I press an ear against it but all conversation has stopped.

Waiting until I’m sure Penguin has gone, I poke my head out into the corridor. It’s empty. I don’t know which room is Jerome’s so I head towards the stairs and lean on the polished wooden railing. The entryway is empty too. But eventually, Jerome will come through here.

It’s been maybe ten minutes when a door behind me opens. Looking over my shoulder I see Jerome locking his door. He’s whistling. Then he looks up and sees me.  
“Hi.” I smile. He grins and makes his way over to me, leaning one elbow on the railing at my side.   
“Hey there.” He winks at me, making me laugh. “Been making friends?”  
“So many friends.” I roll my eyes and half sigh. “I didn’t think it was possible to make Penguin hate me more.”  
“I don’t think he hates you.”  
“Well, he certainly doesn’t want me here.”

Penguin’s words run through my mind again, unwelcome but ever-present. I shake my head, shaking the thoughts away.

“So where have you been?”  
“About.” A glare prompts him to keep speaking. “Organising things. Finding people. Making sure good ol’ Gordon is distracted enough for us to do our work.”  
“Ah, yes. Our mysterious “work”.” I raise my eyebrows at him, asking a silent question.  
“All in good time, Harls.”  
“I don’t like being kept in the dark.”  
“I know.” He frowns. “But this…”   
“Look,” I turn to face him properly, “Do you promise that I’ll find out everything? That you aren’t keeping something important from me?”  
“I promise.” He takes my hand, examining my fingers. Compared to him, calloused and rough, my skin is like porcelain – flawless and fragile.  
“Then I trust you.” I squeeze his hand. And I do. I do trust him. Jerome has never lied to me, never misled me. He may keep secrets, but he always tells the truth. And he’s not the only one who keeps things hidden.

*

I can’t sleep.

I wasn’t tired when I went to bed, and I’m somehow even more awake now. For hours I’ve been tossing and turning, my mind running away from me. Thinking about my family. Thinking about Bruce. Even thinking about Jim Gordon. I wonder if he went to my house. I wonder if he knows I’m gone.

_This is pointless._

I get up and wrap a blanket around my shoulders. Maybe a hot chocolate will help.

The house is dark. But as I shuffle past Jerome’s room, I can hear movement. I glance between the door and the stairs, considering my options. Deciding, I turn and knock on Jerome’s door.  
“It’s me,” I call out in a loud whisper. I don’t want to disturb anyone else.   
“What’s up?” I take that as a cue to come in, pushing open the door. It’s a room nearly identical to mine, dimly lit by the bedside lamp. When my eyes land on Jerome, I yelp and turn away at the sight of him standing wearing only sweatpants.  
“Jerome!”  
“What?” He chuckles.  
“You could have warned me!”  
“You’ve seen me shirtless before.”  
“Yeah, but that was in a professional setting!” The words sound insanely dumb as I say them, so I look back round. He’s still laughing at me. “Shut up.” I close the door behind me softly.  
“Never.”

I hover awkwardly in front of the door as Jerome pulls on a sweatshirt, leaving it open so his chest is still exposed. I let my eyes linger on his skin, on the muscles that move under it, on the scars that lay on top; it’s not anything that I haven’t seen in Arkham, but here, in the dead of night, with no one else around, it’s different. More dangerous. More tempting.

“Harls?” Jerome’s voice snaps me back to reality. He’s smirking. “What’s up?”  
“I… I couldn’t sleep. And I saw you were up, so…” I shrug. I don’t really have an explanation. Instead, I cross to the chair in the corner of the room and curl up into a ball.  
“So you wanted to see your favourite crazy?” He grins, sitting opposite me on the bed.   
“Something like that.”  
“Well, you’ve got me.”

The words spark something in my mind. _Do I? Do I “have” Jerome?_ And once again, I begin to question everything. The fears and anxiety scream inside me. And this time I can’t stop myself from voicing them.

“Why am I here?”

Jerome looks at me, confused.  
“Cause you want to be?”  
“Cause you asked me to be.”  
“Because you said you wanted to help.”  
“What do I really bring to this though?” I sigh in frustration, leaning back in the chair.

“Come here.” I ignore him, consumed by the noise in my head. “Harleen, come here.”

Jerome only says my full name when he’s serious. I stand up and cross to the bed, sitting beside him with one leg tucked under the other. Jerome grips my jaw in his hand, firm enough that I can’t turn away, but not so much to hurt. His skin is hot against mine.

“You are the smartest person I know. And believe me, we need some smarts here.”  
I giggle. “Definitely. You’d be struggling without me.” He almost looks insulted, but we both know that I’m joking.  
“And you’re a fighter. You always get back up – hell, you got shot and you kept running.” _Okay, that’s fair._ “You’re our secret weapon. They’ll never see you coming.”

A sense of calm settles over me. Just that reassurance, reassurance that I’m not an afterthought, that I’m not irrelevant, manages to suppress unease in my mind.

“Plus, ya’ know, I like having you around.” He releases my face and grins.   
“You better.” I shove his shoulder gently, smiling now.  
“Is that why you couldn’t sleep.”  
I shrug, shuffling to rest my back against the headboard. “Probably. Brain just won’t stop.”  
“Has your brain ever stopped?” Jerome joins me so we’re sitting side by side.   
“Probably not.”  
“Maybe you should try it sometime.”   
“I doubt it would help. Even if I did get it to shut up, it would probably get revenge by giving me more nightmares.”

I can feel Jerome looking at me. Turning my head I stare right back. “What?”  
“Nothing.” He looks away, but it’s my turn to grab his cheek and turn his face back towards me.  
“What is it?”  
“Sometimes…” His eyes study mine. The words seem stuck in his brain. “I have nightmares too. A lot. Bad ones.”  
My brow furrows. “I didn’t think you were the type to be bothered by bad dreams.”  
“I’ve always had them. About my family, about the circus abandoning me. They stopped when I was in Arkham – I guess I just didn’t care anymore. Then, when I came back to life-”  
“So did the nightmares.” He nods. “I guess it’s easy to forget you’re human.”  
“How dare you,” He scoffs, clearly trying to diffuse the tension, to move away from the emotional discussion. But I won’t let him.  
“You are human though. For all your anarchy and chaos, in the end, you still are. There’s no changing that. You feel things: hate, joy, anger, fear…” _Love?  
_ “If I’m human, so are you.”  
“Now that’s preposterous.” I look away, gladly breaking the serious conversation now that I’ve said my piece.

Jerome laughs at my pretend outrage. I feel a yawn trying to force its way out of me, but I turn it into a cough. I don’t want to go back to my room. I don’t want to give up what little time I might have with Jerome.

“What’s happening tomorrow?” I ask, resting my head on his shoulder. He doesn’t say anything about it, but I know he’s grinning at me.  
“A meeting in the morning. Then we’re going into the city.”  
“Ooh, fun.” This time I can’t contain the yawn. “I’ll go in a minute.”

I feel him pat the side of my head, making me scrunch my nose in annoyance. “Stay as long as you want, Harls.”


End file.
